We rolled and carried and stacked our luggage onto a crowded ferry in the Penang harbor, a myriad of travelers squeezing into every available seat, and sailed the bumpy water to Langkawi, the northern most Malaysian island. After a taxi ride to the opposite side of Langkawi, officials in a casual port side office stamped our passports out of Malaysia while we watched a flock of hornbills glide from tree top to tree top. Boarding a speed boat for Koh Lipe, a tiny island off the coast of southern Thailand, we were off to a new country, a new culture, a new experience. I have not cared much for boats in the past, but am realizing now that every time I am sailing on the ocean -- an experience I am having with increased frequency since moving to Indonesia -- I absolutely love it. The sky was unseasonably overcast and the waves were choppy. We arrived soaked with ocean spray. The speed boat staff unloaded our bags directly onto the sand and, while we waited on a wooden slab bench, an official inside a little shack on the beach processed passports, calling out country names when finished, the most informal immigration procedure I have ever witnessed. The speed boat docked on the busier, more developed side of Koh Lipe, but we had decided to stay on quieter Sunset Beach. Wading into the warm water, we loaded up our luggage onto a long tail boat which motored us around to the other side of the island. It is high, high, the highest high season, but we smoothly find an available room right on the beach. Three boats, a taxi and two immigration offices later we have arrived for our authentic beach vacation.
The simple joy of awakening early and seeing the sun rise orange over the ocean, Asher and I sharing a perfectly placed log in the sand, then sitting on our porch enjoying a pot of green tea as the sea breeze rustles palm leaves. Our porch is front row on the sand, facing long stretches of turquoise water that only gets deep and turns dark blue far off shore, the hazy outline of jagged, uninhabited, rocky islands in the distance. Between us and the shore’s edge are sparse clumps of stumpy palms and extremely tall pines. Pines are a surprise for me on a tropical island, their needles wispy, draping like moss, their tiny, round pinecones smaller than a lump of sugar. Occasionally a motorboat powers by; part time fishing boats, part time sea taxis and excursion transportation, all of a lovely asymmetrical Thai design with a long extension of wood at the bow and an almost dragonfly shaped motor extending off the stern. When the sun is bright the white sand is blinding. In places it is so fine a powder it is like pastry flour. The beaches have tiny, gentle waves, perfect for Sofia the Mermaid to back float across a cove and snorkel in water shallow enough to stand in.
Every day we do an art project using whatever we find on the beach. Every day the project begins as a collaboration, Sofia and I, and soon becomes my intense focus while Sofia swims, draws in the sand, dances across the beach. Sofia the Shell Collector is an excellent assistant when I put out the call for more big white clam shells or more colorful bits. I take total enjoyment in the process and when I feel complete, leave the creation for the tide to redistribute or the resort staff to sweep.
Every day we swim in the warm, clear, rejuvenating ocean water. Asher and I take turns snorkeling far off shore where the water becomes deep and the coral flourishes. One of us stays with Sofia in the shallows and the other gets a good work out stroking against the current, the pay off being bright purple giant clams, sea eels, long, spiky sea urchins and florescent fish.
We walk everywhere. We do not see one single car. We do see one very small, very short pick up truck twice and a few motorbikes. Sofia the Barefoot takes to walking everywhere without shoes. After a few days I join here. We can go anywhere on this island on foot. We can go anywhere on this island without shoes.
For years I have craved this feeling of endless days beside the ocean, hour after hour filled only with sand and salt water and sun. It wasn’t a burning passion, but a quiet desire like a musical note held a long time while other instruments fill up the foreground. Now that I am in the experience I have longed for I have the time to appreciate the details and to recognize all the pieces that have come together to bring me here. Some of those pieces had rough edges and yet here I am, on a gorgeous and exotic beach, watching two little birds hop by, admiring the black and white patterns on their wings and their bright yellow beaks. Here I am, my body turning a darker shade of brown every day, savoring the sun, the colors of the ocean, the cloud formations, the constant sea breeze, even the rinsing off of sand from my feet before entering our little beach hut.
We celebrated New Years Eve on the busier side of the island. One walk way connects Sunrise Beach and Pataya, lined with restaurants hawking fresh fish, Thai massage joints and, to Sofia The Ice Cream Lover’s delight, a real Italian gelato shop. This was the first time we had ventured over on foot and the beach was hopping. Every beachfront restaurant was packed and many had a dj or live music. Large groups of Thai locals were playing games. Two guys with boxing gloves straddling a wooden perch built into the shallows of the ocean punched at each other in a good natured way until one or both fell over into the water. In the sand they ran a relay race that involved putting on a pair of shorts, in some cases too small for the participants, and running a loop back to home base. The visitors, mostly every flavor of European, were sitting at long candlelit tables in the sand eating late dinners. Many were releasing Thai New Years Blessings into the sky. Shaped like Naguchi lamps, these flying lanterns are cylinders of white paper with a paper top and a metal hoop at the bottom holding a flammable coil. Up and down the beach people were pouring their hearts and dreams and aspirations for the new year into their lamps, igniting their coils, waiting the prescribed 5 minutes for the air inside to heat up, then releasing their prayers, the lanterns rising like miniature hot air balloons. Most of the time the breeze carried the lanterns up, over the docked boats, over the bay, a colony of oversized fireflies gliding gracefully out to sea, forming their own constellations in the night sky. Sometimes a lamp had barely begun to take flight before it lost altitude, tangling into the mast of a sailboat or crashing into the ocean. If the lanterns predict the future, some were in store for a dramatic year, their lamps rising, dropping dangerously close to the water, then catching the wind for a jerky climb up again. For hours before midnight fireworks rocketed into the dark sky, not in one centralized location but percussively here and there. We walked the stretch of beach in shining New Years masks, blowing sound makers, taking in all of the activities, Sofia The Prolific Artist pausing to draw figures in the sand. Eventually we parked ourselves on a platform in a bar with good music. Sofia made it until 11:30 and fell asleep, giving Asher and I the opportunity to start off the year with the workout of carrying her back across the island, under the canopy of fireworks exploding. Earlier in the afternoon she had correctly informed me, “I am heavier when I am asleep.”
On Koh Lipe every bit of food, other than fish caught locally, is imported from the mainland. Another tropical setting that imports all of its food supply... I am noticing a strange, unsustainable pattern here on planet earth. The (imported) curries were fantastic and I added my own fresh leafy (imported) Asian greens purchased at tiny markets. One restaurant had an agreeable chef who allowed me to bring my own greens and fruit which he blended for us into green smoothies. After a few days I was training him to make raw food dishes and writing down menu suggestions.
We hired a long tailed boat for a snorkeling expedition, island hopping to new stretches of coral. Sofia the Snorkeler, afraid of getting her face wet in a pool just a few short months ago, swam hand in hand with Asher and I in the open sea. We spotted a puffer fish and a lion fish with long mane of fringe. When Sofia wanted to stay on the beach, Ring, our boat driver, made animals for her out of palm leaves.
I wanted to stay beside the ocean until I had the satisfied feeling of having enough. One evening Sofia said, “I’m beginning to get tired of this beach,” and I said, “That’s good, because we leave tomorrow.” I was ready. We were all ready. It was time to go.
Back to Langkawi by speedboat. A taxi to the airport. A plane to Kuala Lumpur. If you want to take a taxi out of the KL airport you must purchase a ticket inside. We didn’t know that, so when we finally got to the head of the queue we were ticketless and Asher had to run back inside the airport building. They sold him a premium ticket, though he hadn’t requested one, and we were wondering if we had over paid, but while the long line of travelers waited for little cabs, we immediately got into a nice big new car. We liked our Chinese driver, Andy, and hired him again the next day for a treasure hunt. We had a day and a half before returning to Bali and were determined to find a newfangled ice shaver to bring home with us. It was an adventure into the outskirts of KL, and sometimes it looked like the trail was going cold, but we ended up sourcing exactly the machine we wanted. We knew somehow it would work out, because we felt the inspiration, and it did. We found a company that could order the machine from a warehouse and deliver it to our hotel before our flight. Like an old fashioned Asian ice shaving machine, our new baby has a spiked piece that hand cranks down hard on a frozen block of deliciousness, then electrically spins on an extremely sharp blade producing ribbons of edible confetti. The whole thing is encased in pinkish red plastic with a big company sticker on the side that says WELL!, so it seems like something fun is going on when you just look at the thing.
When we left Kuala Lumpur for travels north, KL was geared up and dressed up for Christmas. Never missing a consumer sales opportunity, when we returned we found KL all done up for Chinese New Year. The decorations mostly involve dragons and huge quantities of paper flowers. In Chinatown Sofia the Fashionista found a hot pink Chinese dress. In Little India she found another frock covered with beads and sequins. Pink, of course. She spent every last penny, or Malaysian ringet, of her birthday money we had been saving. It was time to go home.
From vacation we return home to... Bali. That still tickles us. I am experimenting with recipes for my ice shaver like coconut vanilla, raw cacao cashew and mango orange. In the Green School warung I serve up the flavored snowy confections in bowls made from coconut shells. It’s a hit with the kids, my first real raw food crossover item popular with the under 16 crowd. Up until now I have mostly been serving to parents. Our friend Ben Macrory brought back from his vacation in Oregon Asher’s commercial coffee grinder and his cold pressed coffee equipment. We are getting tight on space in the warung. Time to build the restaurant...
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